


The Oath

by myrthrilmercury



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Demonic Possession, Established Relationship, Head Injury, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Mythology References, Serious Injuries, Tumblr Prompt, Wicca, Witches, my sincerest apologies to Caps fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrthrilmercury/pseuds/myrthrilmercury
Summary: There are numerous legends surrounding the Stanley Cup. Some of them are actually true.Done for all four of the November Pens Monthly prompts.





	

Summer had lasted far too long this year.

It wasn’t that Carl didn’t enjoy being back in Sweden, he _did_ —he finally got to do all those things that he never had time for during the season, like spend time with family and non-hockey friends.

But the most important person hadn’t been there. 

He had dreamed of a day with the Cup for as long as he could remember, and Horny had been there too—but the absence of Phil loomed large over those three days.

Skype, phone calls, and messages could only do so much. There was no substitute for having him nearby. 

They’d exchanged hugs and pleasantries at the airport when everyone came back from their homelands, but the actual reunion had to wait until later.

Only when they were alone could their lips meet and their bodies intertwine as they faded into each other, trading the emptiness from the past three months for serenity as they delved into one another’s essences once more, drinking in each other as if they had both been dying of thirst. 

It was only as their breathing slowed that Carl noticed something was different.

There was a mark on Phil’s left bicep that looked like it had been a cut at some point.

“What happened here?” Carl asked absentmindedly, lazily tracing the enigma with a fingertip.

“Hmm?” Phil’s brow furrowed when he noticed what Carl was pointing out. “Good question. No idea.”

“You don’t even know?” It obviously hadn’t required stitches, but this was something that would have still bled like crazy had it been open at any point. 

“Maybe from helping Dad out in the yard. Don’t worry about it, eh?” 

Carl shrugged and rested his head on Phil’s chest, banishing the thought from his mind.

***

It didn’t take long for Carl to remember why he hated the Parkway North. He barely made it into Cranberry on time. Why did they even have HOV lanes if the damn things were never open? Maybe if they were, people would actually stay the hell out of the other lanes.

Bones and Horny looked up briefly from their spots on the bench as Carl scrambled to his stall before Bones resumed his part of their conversation.

“So, a guy goes to a bar and orders an Ovechkin.”

There was some snickering from the nearby Dumo and Rusty, who had clearly heard this one before.

“The bartender says, ‘I don’t know how to make that.’ And the guy tells him, ‘It’s easy. It’s just a White Russian with no ice and no Cup.’” 

There was a brief pause before Horny doubled over in wheezing laughter. 

Phil chuckled in amusement from his bench before pulling off his shirt. Once the material was gone, Carl noticed two more marks on Phil’s right arm, one above and one below the elbow. Now was not the time to say anything, though.

Either Sid didn’t notice them, or his concern was elsewhere when he approached Phil. “Have you lost weight?”

“Huh?” Phil blinked, confused. “No. Why?”

“You look like you have.”

Flower took the opportunity to butt in. “That tends to happen when you’re on a team that actually makes the playoffs instead of sitting on your ass from April until now.” 

Phil laughed along with the others, but abruptly stopped when Shearsy walked by. Shearsy stopped and pivoted mid-stride, recoiling immediately in alarm before gazing cautiously at Phil.

“Phil?” Shearsy began. “Something happen over break?”

“Not really—” Phil began before his voice suddenly changed to a deep, almost gritty baritone. “None of your business.”

Everyone in the immediate area turned and stared in disbelief. That didn’t sound like Phil in more ways than one. 

Shearsy’s eyes narrowed as he began speaking through gritted teeth. “Really, now? I believe it _is_ my business.”

“Why?” Phil’s mouth moved, but once again, it wasn’t his voice. “What do you think you can do?” 

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Shearsy lunged forward and seized Phil’s wrist, prompting Phil to shriek in pain.

“Uh, guys?” Sid pushed his way over to the pair. “Why don’t we just calm down and—”

“Damn. This complicates things. I was not counting on a white witch.” Carl froze in horror when he realized that the voice really _wasn’t_ Phil, despite the fact that Phil himself was speaking. 

Shearsy clenched his hand tighter, digging his nails into Phil’s skin. “Spirits of protection, spirits who clear, banish all shadows who don’t belong here.”

The subsequent scream of agony was drowned out by the cacophony of breaking glass as the ceiling lights shattered, sending their remnants raining down on the locker room, and its occupants running in different directions as they braced their arms over their heads. 

Phil slumped over and fell forward, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor.

***

Carl paced nervously outside of the medical room, paying no mind to the murmurs of his teammates passing through the hallway until hearing Tanger use the words “white witch,” which prompted him to lift his head and notice Flower and Tanger engaged in a conversation as they walked by the entrance to the gym.

“Ask him yourself,” came Flower’s reply.

“Yeah, but why didn’t he tell us?” Tanger inquired in confused frustration.

Flower’s tone was deliberate now, with more than a hint of annoyance. “Because you _know_ what happens to witches when they’re outed.”

It made perfect sense that Shearsy never said anything. Although witches were no longer banned in the NHL, the stigma remained. At best, some thought they gave their teams an unfair advantage. At worst, they were seen as malevolent and wishing to do harm. Either way, being outed from the broom closet usually spelled the end of a witch’s career.

The door opened, and Sid’s head poked through the doorway. “He’s awake now.” 

With that, Carl pushed his way past Sid and into the room, ignoring the doctor in the middle of the room and scurrying over to the table that Phil occupied. “Phil! You okay?” 

“…Huh?” Phil flattened his hands on the table and attempted to push himself into a seated position, but stopped when the doctor rushed over and placed his hands on his shoulders. 

“Don’t move,” the doctor advised Phil. “Lie back down and take a few deep breaths until this passes.” When Phil complied, the doctor turned his head to look at Sid. “Find Conor and bring him here.” Sid nodded and rushed out of the room.

“Until what passes?” Carl asks, confused.

“He just regained consciousness. We can’t have him up and moving around this soon.”

“Did he get injured during camp without anyone knowing? I mean, he wasn’t—”

The doctor shook his head, crestfallen. “It’d be nice if it were only an injury. That, I could treat.”

“Found him,” Sid announced as he returned, Shearsy in tow.

“Conor.” The doctor removed his hands from Phil’s shoulders and stood up straight. “Possession, you think?”

Shearsy nodded. “Definitely. Quite a bad case if that made him pass out.” 

Carl held up both of his hands in front of his chest. “Wait. I’m lost. What’s going on?”

“Yeah, what’s going on, eh?” Phil asked from his spot on the table. “How’d I even get here, anyway?”

Sid frowned anxiously. “You don’t even remember?”

“Remember what?”

The room remained silent for a few moments as everyone exchanged worried glances, with the exception of Shearsy, who appeared more determined than concerned. 

“Remember _what?”_ Phil repeated, more adamantly this time.

“The banishing spell,” Shearsy stated. “Did you feel any pain earlier?”

“Pain from what?”

“Shearsy.” Sid broke his silence. “You’re a white witch, aren’t you?”

Shearsy nodded solemnly. “I guess my secret’s out now.” 

“Not if we don’t publicize it.”

“What?!” Phil’s tone changed from grogginess to panic when he realized where he was. “What am I doing in here?!”

“We brought you in here when you passed out,” the doctor explained.

Phil’s jaw dropped as he blinked in nervous confusion. “I did?”

The stirrings of uneasiness within Carl now swelled to pure, unequivocal alarm. “You and Shearsy were having some sort of…argument, I guess. Then he did…something, and you passed out.”

“Huh. No, I don’t re—” Phil instantly jolted into a seated position when he suddenly remembered something else. “Shit, I was supposed to see Dana!” With that, he sprung up off of the table and scrambled out the door.

Sid blinked in disbelief. “He seems awfully well for someone that just passed out.”

“Physically, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him besides some odd marks on his arms,” the doctor noted with a half-shrug. 

Carl frowned in consternation. “But he couldn’t remember anything.”

“That’s one reason I’m certain he’s possessed,” Shearsy explained. “That, and I felt something evil when I walked by him earlier. Then the voice, and the reaction to the banishing spell…”

“Did it work?” Sid inquired.

Shearsy shook his head. “I doubt it. If it’s got him bad enough that he’s losing his memory, then it’s gotten comfortable enough that we’ll need an exorcism to drive it out.”

As if on cue, Sully came bounding into the room. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” He scanned the room briefly before focusing back on the group. “Where’s Phil?”

“He got up and ran off to see Dana,” Carl replied. “But the thing is, he didn’t remember anything that happened.”

Sully frowned. “I was afraid of that. That’s what I was just trying to figure out.” Sully elaborated further when he only received baffled looks in response. “Well, that and doing some CYA for Conor. But I made some calls to Dallas to try and see how they did it.”

“Wait, the Stars did something?” Carl interrupted. “I’m confused.”

Sid nodded. “Makes sense. They didn’t want word getting out.”

“Word of _what?”_ Maybe it made sense to Sid, but Carl was just getting more and more confused.

Sid turned to Carl. “You know how Tyler Seguin got traded for partying too much, right? Turned out he was actually possessed by a djinn the whole time. Once he got traded to the Stars, they figured it out, got him exorcised, and he’s been fine ever since.”

“Holy shit.” If possession changed Tyler Seguin so drastically, Carl hated to think what might happen to Phil. Of course he had been anxious, but he didn’t think that he might actually lose Phil.

“Conor.” Sully broke his silence. “Would you be able to perform an exorcism?”

Sid turned his attention to Sully. “You knew?”

Sully nodded. “We’ve had several conversations about this.”

“Well, to answer your question, I most likely could,” Shearsy broke in. “But the first thing we need to do is figure out exactly what type of demon he’s possessed by. Different demons require different approaches.” 

“Makes sense,” Sully said. “How do we do that?”

“Keep watching and talking to him until we get enough clues to piece it together. That’s where Haggy comes in.”

“Huh?” Carl tilted his head in heightened interest.

“You’re closer to him than the rest of us are, so you have the best chance of noticing if something’s off about him.”

“Did you see the marks on his arms?” Carl asked the others. “He only had one when we first got back into town, but he’s got more now.”

“That, and I’m sure he’s lost weight, though he claims he hasn’t,” Sid added.

“Good. Those sorts of things are exactly what I need to know. The marks actually narrow it down somewhat. Listen, Haggy. I don’t care what time of the day or night it is, but anytime you find out something that may be important, you need to call or text me, okay?”

Carl nodded. “Got it.”

“We won’t be able to do a proper exorcism anyway until the full moon, which isn’t for four more days. But there is some stuff I can do in the meantime. I’ll start working on it tonight. In the meantime, all of us need to keep a close eye on him.”

Sully nodded. “Conor, I need to talk to you in my office for a bit. Sid and Hags, back on the ice. Move out.”

Carl frowned as he followed Sid back to the ice. How was he supposed to get any practice in after all _that?_

***

Carl lay on his back, staring blankly into the darkness of his bedroom. He’d already been worried sick, but when he broached the subject with Phil later that day, it made him worry even more. 

Apparently this hadn’t been the first time Phil had ended up somewhere without remembering how he had gotten there. This had happened several times in the offseason. Sometimes Phil would go to bed, and then he’d wake up and be three blocks away from home. 

When Carl asked him how long it had been going on, Phil couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began happening, but it started after his day with the Cup.

Interestingly enough, it only happened to Phil at night. So why had the demon suddenly been able to control him during the day?

The sound of the doorbell startled Carl so much that he nearly fell out of bed. Then it rang several more times. Carl slid out of bed and headed down the stairs, cursing under his breath. If this was someone’s idea of a prank—

Carl recoiled in shock when he opened the front door to see Phil, wearing nothing but a pair of green sweatpants. His car wasn’t in the driveway. Had he actually _walked_ all the way to Carl’s house?

The marks had now spread; covering Phil’s arms like a plague. 

“Good evening.” The intrusive voice had returned to Phil’s throat, and sent a chill down Carl’s spine. “I need to speak with you.”

“Who are you?” Carl clenched his hands into fists as he slowly backed away from the door.

Phil wasted no time in stepping inside and slamming the door shut behind him. “I am he who they believed they had exorcised 40 years ago.”

“You’re a demon.” It was a simple statement of fact, but it didn’t help Carl to feel any less scared. “How did you…” He couldn’t finish his question before his voice wavered.

“They thought they exorcised me, but I’d been sealed within the Stanley Cup the entire time. All I needed was a suitable host.”

“Why Phil? Why did you choose him over all those others?”

“Phil?” the voice asked dismissively. “Oh, is that his name? Whatever. That’s not important to me.”

Carl gritted his teeth in rage. “You’re stealing his body. The very least you could do is use his name.”

Phil staggered backwards, gasping in pain before falling to his knees.

“Phil?!” Carl knelt down and began to put his arm around Phil, but drew back when Phil flailed an arm at him.

_“Stay back!”_ The warning alone was enough to petrify Carl, but then Phil’s right index finger began glowing with a blue light. Carl remained frozen in place as Phil ran the glowing finger across an unsullied patch of skin on his inner forearm. When he withdrew the finger, the skin he had traced was open and bleeding.

Phil leaned over and pressed the wound to his mouth, loudly gulping up the blood like a desert traveler at an oasis.

_“STOP!”_ Carl quelled the churning in his stomach long enough to lunge forward and pull the wounded arm away from Phil’s mouth.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the voice hissed. “If I die, he dies.”

Carl gasped in horror before loosening his grip on Phil’s arm. 

“That’s right,” the voice stated in cold approval. “I suggest you think things through first.” 

Carl clenched his eyes shut when Phil pulled the arm out of his grasp. When the slurping sounds finally stopped, he opened his right eye ever so slightly to discover that Phil’s finger was once again glowing with the blue light. He traced the finger back over the fresh wound, sealing it and leaving behind a mark.

So this was where all the marks had come from. Judging by how quickly the marks were appearing, the demon had been drinking Phil’s blood more and more frequently.

At this rate, Phil didn’t have much time left.

Phil’s features narrowed into an icy glare. “I shall leave you with a warning. Forget about him.”

“What?!” 

“He’s waking up. I don’t have time to explain now.” Phil’s eyes fluttered shut before he slumped over and passed out.

_“PHIL!”_ Carl grabbed Phil’s shoulders and rolled him onto his back.

“…Huh?” Phil’s voice had returned to normal, and sounded more as if he were waking up from a long nap instead of having been possessed. “What…Carl…huh?”

“Are you okay?!”

“Am I…” Phil gasped in shock as his bearings suddenly came rushing back. “Carl?! What are you doing here?!”

“This is my house.” Carl reached up and flicked on the nearby light switch. Phil initially winced and squeezed his eyes shut when the lights came on, then opened them and looked around before nearly hyperventilating at the realization that Carl was right.

“I—“Phil squirmed as he made several unsuccessful attempts to push himself back up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—I should go home—”

“No.” Carl’s voice was tender, yet stern. “You’re staying here tonight.”

“But Stella—”

“I’ll take you home in the morning so you can take care of her. Okay?”

“Wait.” Phil’s body stiffened. “Did I…Did I drive here?”

“I don’t see your car anywhere. You must have walked here.” 

Phil’s jaw dropped in sudden realization. “…Shit.”

“Yeah. Come on. Lie down, okay?”

Phil didn’t put up a fight as he allowed Carl to help him off the floor and followed him back to his bedroom. He obediently climbed into bed when Carl pulled the covers back on the side of the bed he hadn’t been using, but remained upright, staring blankly into space.

“Something’s wrong with me.” 

Carl climbed onto the other side of the bed. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Lie down and get some rest.”

“Am I going crazy?” Phil’s voice, which had previously remained stoic, cracked under the presence of pure, animal fear.

“Phil.” Carl returned his arms to Phil’s shoulders and gently guided him down onto the mattress. “Rest.” He then lay down and pressed his body against the side of Phil’s, draping an arm over Phil’s chest.

“I—”

“Shh.” Carl pressed a kiss to Phil’s cheek and reached up with his free hand to gently stroke Phil’s hair. When he felt Phil’s hand brush against his leg, he moved the hand in his hair down to Phil’s, gently clasping it against the hand that clasped his in return.

They remained like that for a little while, silent and motionless as Phil’s breathing finally steadied and slowed to a ragged pace. Carl released Phil’s hand cautiously, and waited for a few moments to see if there was any response.

There wasn’t. Slowly and gently, he untangled himself from Phil and crept downstairs with his phone, searching his contacts for Shearsy’s number.

***

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Phil’s reaction to the news was not entirely unexpected, but what had been surprising was how nonchalant he had been about the revelation that Shearsy was a white witch.

As promised, Carl had taken Phil home that morning to feed and run Stella outside, as well as to put on some clothes. The fact that Phil had made it all the way to Carl’s house without any shoes on still astounded them both, but even though Sid, Shearsy and Sully were with them in Sully’s office insisting that he was possessed, Phil wasn’t ready to accept a supernatural explanation of events. 

“I’m telling you, I felt it,” Shearsy insisted. “Besides, there was no way that banishing spell should have knocked you out unless there was something to banish in the first place.”

“And I’m telling you, you’ve lost weight,” Sid added. “You haven’t changed your diet any?”

“No.” Phil shook his head. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

Sully broke his silence. “Let’s try something else. Carl, you said Phil came over…” He paused for a moment, searching for the right phrase. “Under the influence last night?”

Carl nodded silently.

“We at least know where the marks came from after you told Conor last night, but did the demon say anything to you?” 

“Now that I think about it…” Carl tilted his head towards the ceiling, staring blankly. “Phil said he started having memory lapses after his day with the Cup…and the demon said it had been sealed within the Cup 40 years ago.”

Carl nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard something break. Sid’s coffee tumbler had fallen out of his hand and was now broken into two separate pieces on the floor.

“No way.” Sid’s face was white as a sheet. “I thought that was just a legend.”

“What was?” Sully asked, confused.

“I always used to hear stories back in juniors about some demon that would possess someone and drink their blood, then move on to the next person when that one died. It supposedly killed a bunch of people in Ontario back in the ‘70s before it went after someone at the Hall, and they brought in an exorcist. I always just thought it was the older guys trying to scare the younger kids.”

“Maybe they did, too,” Carl suggested with a shrug. “I mean, it _does_ sound crazy.”

“But apparently not.”

“Hmm.” Sully placed an arm on his desk and leaned into his hand. “I’ll make some calls and see if that story’s real. If it is, they didn’t get rid of it the first time.”

Sid turned to Shearsy. “So how would an exorcist not be able to get it right the first time?”

“It could be anything,” Shearsy replied. “Wrong moon phase, wrong incantation, wrong tools…That’s really easy to do if you don’t know exactly what type of demon you’re dealing with. That’s why I haven’t done all that much yet.”

“‘All that much’?” Sid repeated.

“Well, for one, the full moon’s not for a couple more days. You can’t do exorcisms until then, but you can do—” Shearsy stopped immediately when he realized where his train of thought was headed. “Protection spells.” Shearsy turned to face Sully. “Where’s the Cup now?”

“Right where we put it after the fans got to touch it—” Sully began, but stopped when Shearsy stood up and began heading for the door. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure the demon doesn’t return to its old hiding place.” With that, Shearsy left Sully’s office and closed the door behind him.

“Huh,” Sid said to no one in particular. “Guess he’s got a plan.”

Carl frowned. “But we still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Sully sat up straight in his chair. “We at least have some leads now. We’ll have afternoon skate as planned, but I’ll be making some calls while you’re all off with Potash this morning. Phil, you haven’t said anything for a while now. You holding up okay?”

“Fine.” Phil’s monotone indicated he was anything but. 

Sully got the hint and didn’t press the issue any further. “All right. You three let me know if anything changes.” 

After the meeting adjourned, Carl decided to go check on the Cup. Shearsy had definitely had something in mind.

Apparently Phil had the same idea, because he was standing in the hallway, staring through the open door of the room where it was being kept.

“I can’t get too close now, eh? It’s like something’s pushing me back.” 

Carl stepped through the doorway of the room, but paused when he felt exactly what Phil had been talking about. Even though there was nothing there, it felt as if he were about to walk into a brick wall should he advance any further into the room.

The Cup remained on its pedestal in the center of the room, but it was now surrounded by a purple circle of light on the floor, extending almost the entire length and width of the room. Two smaller circles diagonally banded the Cup itself, like rings encircling a planet.

“Huh.” Carl backed out of the room and stood next to Phil. “Guess that’s taken care of. I guess he really knows what he’s doing.”

“It explains so much, eh? Like why he has that moon phase app on his phone.” 

Carl turned towards Phil in interest. “Did you know he was a white witch?”

Phil shook his head. “No, but I played with two grey witches at Minnesota and he always does a lot of the same stuff they did, like breaking curfew when it’s a full moon. Anyway…can you stay at my place tonight?”

Carl nodded. “Of course. I’d feel better if I did, too.” Not only would he be able to keep an eye on Phil, but it would be much easier to talk to him alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that being wouldn’t come back while Carl was there.

***

It was not quite a full moon, but the light shining through the window was enough to rouse Carl into a drowsy state of confusion until he suddenly remembered why he was not sleeping in his own bed.

He then remembered that the blinds had been closed when he and Phil both turned in for the night. 

Carl turned onto his other side and glanced over at the other half of the bed to find it empty. Fatigue gave way to dread as he pushed himself out of bed and began searching the darkened house for Phil.

Fortunately, Phil hadn’t gone too far, and was standing in the living room when Carl finished descending the staircase. Phil had his back turned towards Carl, paying no mind to Carl’s approaching footsteps.

“Phil?” Carl began cautiously, then froze when Phil turned towards him, heavy-lidded and expressionless. “No…not Phil.” 

“You again?” The gravelly baritone had returned. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…I’m staying the night?” 

The voice scoffed. “Well, this is inconvenient.”

Carl’s initial bewilderment shifted to sudden realization. “Are you saying you don’t know what Phil does when he’s awake?”

“Correct. I do not have access to his vision or his memories. Though those might disappear soon.”

“What?!” 

“Two souls cannot inhabit one body at once. The stronger one always prevails. I used to only wake at night, but I woke during the day when you first met me. So, it’s only a matter of time before this body becomes mine and mine alone.” 

Carl lunged towards Phil in a blind rage, but was thwarted when Phil grabbed both of his arms and threw him to the floor. Before Carl could react, Phil pounced, and he found himself pinned under Phil’s full weight, unable to move his arms due to the hands pressing them down.

“Once again, you have failed to think things all the way through.” The hand on Carl’s left shoulder was immediately replaced by the adjoining elbow before the hand returned to Carl’s view.

Carl shuddered as he saw the glowing blue light emanating from Phil’s index finger, and had never been more afraid in his entire life as he suddenly realized that the demon was about to kill him, and he was powerless to stop it.

Phil was nowhere to be found in the shell of a human being as his features twisted into a cruel smile before the being laughed mockingly. “Not so tough now, are we?”

“What are you after?” It was more of a rhetorical question at this point.

“You think I’m going to kill you.” Phil’s finger inched slowly, ever so slowly towards Carl’s neck, prompting a series of terrified whimpers as the psychic energy tingling through the blue light singed Carl’s skin. “I could. Right now. I’ve done it so many times I’ve stopped counting. But you…” The finger slid firmly and languidly across Carl’s neck, eliciting a delirious scream of agonizing pain. “You’re so much fun to play with.”

Carl’s breath seized just before an inhuman shriek escaped his lips.

“But there’s no reason to kill you. Not when you can be of use to me.” With that, Phil leaned over and began lapping at the droplets of blood that had begun to seep from the open wound.

Carl clenched his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists, trying to ignore the sensation of the mouth against his neck. To add insult to injury, this sort of attention from Phil usually made him weak in the knees. Fortunately, his body was not responding the way it normally did, possibly because he felt himself getting weaker.

After what seemed like an eternity, Phil pulled away, and Carl once again felt the burning sensation of the blue light against his neck as Phil’s index finger retraced its previous path.

“Good. I needed that. I haven’t been able to get as much from him in recent days.”

Carl’s eyes snapped open. “Wait. You mean…?”

“Yes. Unless I find another host, he doesn’t have much time left.” The hands left Carl’s shoulders as Phil reared back and sat on his ankles, and by extension Carl’s hips, as he wiped his mouth with his forearm. “So…how about we make a deal?”

“Huh?” 

“Would you do anything for him?”

“…Yes.” While it was true, Carl knew that nothing good could come from this. 

“Find me another host. Anyone will do.”

“And let you kill someone else?”

The being chuckled through Phil’s icy smile. “If you refuse, I will end up killing him. It is my nature, after all. If you want him back, you have no choice but to do as I say.”

Carl gritted his teeth in frustration before remembering his previous conversation with the demon. “You never did answer my question last night. Why did you choose Phil as opposed to all of the others who have had the Cup over the years?”

“He seemed the most durable of all of them. But I underestimated just how much blood I needed after all those years of being sealed. I will need a new host sooner than I expected.”

“How much time do we have?” It was several questions in one, but most of all, Carl wanted to know just how much longer he and Phil had together should things continue unchanged.

“I would estimate two weeks. But, as I said, anyone would do as a host. And why should you be concerned what happens to the next person? After all, you would have what you want.” 

Carl barely had enough time to react when Phil slumped over and fell forward. Had he not caught Phil’s shoulders with both of his hands, Phil would have ended up right on top of him.

Not that this was necessarily a bad thing, but Carl’s legs were beginning to fall asleep from the way the demon had shifted Phil’s weight. Pushing Phil over to one side was not working very well for this reason, as it only distributed his weight unevenly. 

Fortunately, Phil was beginning to come to his senses, even if he was attempting to turn around as if he were still in bed. 

“Uh…Phil?” Carl shifted against the floor in an unsuccessful attempt to untangle their legs. “Bit of help here?”

“The hell?!” Phil’s eyes snapped wide open and his jaw dropped as he discovered the awkward position they were both in.

Carl extended his arms a little more, pushing Phil further back. “Yeah, this isn’t as fun as it looks.” 

“Sorry.” Phil placed both of his hands on the floor and pushed his body to Carl’s side before turning and sitting down next to him. “But how did we get down here?” 

“That thing was walking around, I tried to fight it, and I lost. That’s basically it.”

Phil recoiled in terror before springing up onto his feet and flicking the light switch on the nearby wall. When the lights came on, the fresh and bloody mark on Carl’s neck was plainly visible. 

“Carl…” Phil’s voice cracked as he lunged to the floor and clung to Carl, burying his face in Carl’s chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But I—”

_“You_ didn’t do anything,” Carl declared slowly and emphatically. “Besides, it was really my fault to begin with.”

Phil released Carl and leaned back. “This is what I was afraid of. I didn’t want to hurt you or anyone else…”

“You didn’t. I’ll get cleaned up and we’ll go back to bed. Okay?” 

Phil took a long, shaky breath. “…Okay.” As he had the previous night, he allowed Carl to lead him back upstairs to his bedroom. Once Phil was back in bed, Carl headed to the master bathroom and turned on the sink before reaching for a nearby washcloth.

Fortunately, the wound was completely sealed, even if it was a bloody mess. At least it was easy to clean up. Even so, the three-inch mark it left behind would not be vanishing any time soon. 

Phil was still seated upright in bed when Carl joined him. “You know why else I asked you to stay over? I’ve gotten scared of going to bed at night.”

“…Phil?” Carl turned and stared intently at Phil, whose eyes and face now resembled those of a frightened little boy rather than a full-grown man.

“I don’t want to fall asleep, because I don’t know where I’ll be when I wake up… _if_ I wake up. Or if everyone will still be here when that happens.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere.” Carl grabbed Phil’s closest hand in both of his and squeezed it tightly. “We’re all waiting for you. We’re working on getting you better.” Phil turned his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Carl had already figured out what he was going to say. “And I’m not going to leave you.” 

Phil remained silent for a few moments, lost in thought as he stared into Carl’s eyes. “...Do me a favor, Carl?”  
Carl nodded solemnly. “Anything.”

“Make sure I…um, whatever that thing is doesn’t hurt anyone else?”

“I won’t let it hurt anyone else,” Carl vowed. _“Especially_ not you. And I’m staying over until this is settled. But even when I go back to my place after everything’s over, I’m still not leaving you. Ever.” 

Phil remained motionless as Carl turned off the tableside lamp and lay down. Carl had just pulled the sheets over himself when Phil broke his silence.

“What if Shearsy can’t fix me?”

“That won’t happen.” Carl turned in bed to face Phil. “Remember, he—”

“It didn’t work.”

“Well, he didn’t know what he was dealing with.”

“We still don’t, eh?” Gradually, Phil lowered himself onto his back. “Until we find out, _if_ we do, that thing will just keep on using me. And even if we do…what’ll happen to me?”

“Nothing. I won’t let it.”

Phil turned his head to face Carl. “…Promise?”

Carl nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay, but…how do I know I won’t be wandering around in the middle of the night again?”

“Tell you what.” Carl extended his hand to Phil. “Just hold my hand all night and I’ll keep you here. How’s that sound?”

Phil smiled as he placed his hand over Carl’s. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

It felt wrong to let go of Phil’s hand after that, so Carl waited until the morning to call Shearsy and tell him what had happened.

Between that, and the response that Sully received from the Hall, Shearsy finally knew exactly what they were dealing with. And while an exorcism was possible, Shearsy couldn’t do it alone.

Which was why Phil, Carl, Sid, and Sully were piled into Shearsy’s car on their way to Fox Chapel, where the high priestess of Shearsy’s coven lived.

Phil idly thumbed the obsidian shard hanging from a leather cord around his neck. Shearsy didn’t know what the talisman was or what it did, but he had received it from the high priest of his old coven in Winchester. Shearsy was still astonished at the gift, as he did not think he ever truly deserved it, but the high priest had insisted that he was the most capable of harnessing its powers.

The true nature of the talisman had also been a mystery to the high priest, but upon giving it to Shearsy, he had said that it should only be given to someone in mortal danger. As far as everyone in the car was concerned, this situation qualified.

There was no telling if the talisman would even do anything, but it was better than nothing. It made Carl feel better that Phil had it, even if Phil remained skeptical.

“We’re here.” Shearsy passed through a set of iron-wrought gates onto a winding cobblestone driveway. The driveway led to a Tudor mansion flanked by neatly-trimmed shrubs out front and a glade of tall, billowing trees behind. It looked to Carl like something out of a fairy tale.

Here, however, there were no wolves, princesses, fairies, or grandmothers to be found. The only presence anywhere on the property besides their small group was the slender woman in a long-sleeved white cotton dress who opened the oak door when they approached.

“Welcome.” Like her home, the woman herself looked like something out of a dream or myth. Her raven hair, which sharply contrasted her alabaster skin, cascaded down to the small of her back. She regarded them with azure blue eyes that seemed to shine with a wisdom far beyond her years.

To Carl, she truly was an ethereal beauty. 

The woman smiled when she saw Shearsy. “Merry meet, Caedmon.”

Shearsy briefly bowed his head before looking back up at the woman and smiling. “Merry meet, Lady Cleome. I brought them along.”

“Well, there’s no need for everyone to stand outside. Please, come in.” Cleome led the group to a window-filled room in the back of the house that had almost no furniture, save for an altar by the back window, an oak cupboard, a bookshelf, a cauldron tucked away in a corner, and three miniature tables at evenly spaced points in a circle around the room. The tables were bare except for one candle each, with each candle being a different color. The candles seemed to correspond to the green one in the center of the altar, and the placement and colors had to mean something. Now was not the time to ask, however. 

Cleome gestured to Shearsy, who rushed over to the altar to light some incense. “I realize you’re all anxious to get this done and over with, but we need to confirm some things first so we don’t make the same mistake the last exorcist did. Now then, which of you is the afflicted one?”

Sully, Carl, and Sid all pointed to Phil.

“All right.” Cleome turned to Phil. “Could you please come with me? Everyone else, I’ll need to ask you to stay put. Sit down. This might take a while.” 

Sitting in the middle of the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable or hospitable, but nobody complained. They were too busy watching Cleome and Shearsy, who both had clearly cast a circle dozens, if not hundreds of times, judging by their methodical approaches. Cleome kept Phil by her side at the altar and had Shearsy do all of the legwork, from sprinkling salt around the perimeter of the space to lighting each of the candles as she called each of the four quarters.

It was all arcane to Carl, literally and figuratively, but it was fascinating nonetheless; especially as the area of the floor outlined by the candles began to glow with a white light. Sometime later, Carl needed to ask Shearsy whether he had been born with his powers or initiated. 

When the preparations were complete, Cleome lifted something from one side of the altar before placing it in the center near the green candle. Once Carl got a better look at the object, he realized it was a Baroque mirror due to its oval shape and ornate frame. It was no ordinary mirror, however—nothing could be seen in the glass, which was black as night. 

Shearsy said something to Phil, who knelt on the floor in front of the altar. Cleome lifted the mirror and held it up to the candle’s flame before tilting it towards the floor to face Phil.

Carl was confused by the spectacle at first, not sure what to make of a non-reflective mirror. Such a thing seemed awfully counterintuitive. 

But then the mirror began to glow with a faint light before displaying Phil’s reflection.

“Good,” Cleome said approvingly before she tilted her head towards Shearsy, who approached her before taking the mirror from her hands and moving it back towards Phil. “Now, show us what lies within.”

Phil’s reflection vanished from the mirror’s surface before it emitted an eerie yellow light.

Cleome nodded. “I thought so. There’s no mistaking it. It’s a vetala.” 

Shearsy frowned. “That explains why there’s no reflection.”

“There’s one more thing I need to do. Could I have that back, please?”

Shearsy nodded and handed the mirror back to Cleome. She placed the mirror back on the altar, but froze in shock when a glimmer of pink light crossed its surface.

“What—” Cleome quickly spun around and looked at Phil, then back at the mirror before glancing at the spectators further back in the room. Carl felt a sudden jolt run through his body the moment he and Cleome made eye contact.

“Now I understand.” Cleome stepped away from the altar and turned to face Shearsy. “There’s just one more thing I need to check, and then we can dispel the circle and plan our next move.” 

Cleome placed one hand on the crown of Phil’s head. “Air, fire, water, earth. Cleanse, dismiss, dispel.”

The blinding flash of light prompted Carl to cover his face with his forearm, as a sudden gust of wind blasted through the room. Carl braced himself as he heard several objects hitting the floor, along with Phil’s bloodcurdling scream.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the squall was over. When Carl lowered his arm, Cleome was kneeling over an unconscious Phil.

“Caedmon, close the circle,” Cleome ordered. “This is going to be harder than we thought.”

***

With Cleome present, it only took a few minutes to revive Phil. That had been the easy part. The plan of action was proving to be far more difficult. 

“The reason I attempted the banishing spell at the end was to judge how well Phil would respond,” Cleome explained. “And the answer is, not well at all. That tells me he’s too weak now for a regular exorcism, so we’ll have to try the next best thing.”

Shearsy nodded. “I volunteer.”

“Wait.” Sid, who up until now had been pacing in circles around the room, stopped and held out both of his hands in front of him. “Someone want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?”

It was Shearsy’s turn to explain. “Exorcism is the best way to kill this thing, but if Phil’s too weak, then we can trick it into jumping into a host that’s strong enough to survive the ritual. If Lady Cleome can transfer it over to me, I should still be strong enough to be conscious, so we can—”

By this point, Phil had heard enough. _“No!”_

There were a few moments of silence as everyone turned to look at Phil. 

“It’s already got me. I’m not having it hurt anyone else.”

Sully’s tone was curt as he glared daggers at Phil. “Phil, the full moon’s tomorrow. If we don’t do this now, you might not be around for a second try.” 

“Not if it puts anyone else in danger. There has to be another way.”

Cleome rushed between the two to prevent a confrontation. “It’s a gamble, but I could attempt to draw it into a talisman. If it was attracted to the Cup, I don’t see why I couldn’t use something mirrored. I’ll create a talisman tonight, and then we meet here tomorrow night at the full moon. Is that acceptable?”

Phil and Sully both exchanged glances, then nodded.

“All right. There is one more thing, though. As for you…” Cleome gestured to Carl, beckoning him with one finger. “I need to speak with you in private. Follow me.” 

Apparently what Cleome wanted to say was rather sensitive, as she led Carl back outside onto the cobblestone walkway.

“The reason I used the mirror earlier was to determine exactly what the situation was. But I also saw something else you need to know about.”

Carl cocked his head and gawked at Cleome in confusion.

“Two souls cannot inhabit one body. Eventually, the stronger one will win.”

“I know.” Carl looked down solemnly.

“This is the worst case of possession I’ve ever dealt with. The vetala should have taken control of him a while ago. The only thing stopping it now is you.”

“…Me?” 

“Only his feelings for you are keeping it from taking over completely. But if what Caedmon says is true, and it did attack you once before, it may do so again. That’s why I want you to have this.” Cleome pulled a small black drawstring bag out of the left sleeve of her dress and handed it to Carl. “Open it.”

Carl pulled open the bag to reveal a silver dagger with a black handle.

“Vetala are vulnerable to this athame. However, this is only to be used in self-defense, or as a very last resort should the talisman fail. Whatever the case, you won’t be able to protect him if you’re unable to protect yourself.”

Carl nodded in agreement. She had a point.

“Bring him back here tomorrow around 7:30. That should be the best time. Caedmon and I will be waiting.”

***

There was very little conversation as Carl drove up the winding hill, turning up his windshield wipers yet again in an unsuccessful attempt to banish the driving rain from his windshield.

“Can’t see a fucking thing,” Carl muttered.

“Yeah.” Phil’s voice was sullen. “Is the weather gonna affect anything? I mean, it’s a full moon tonight, but if the moon’s not out, well…”

“That’s a good question. I don’t know. We’ll have to ask when we get there.” Carl slowed down as he came to a particularly sharp curve. It was bad enough that he was driving on an unfamiliar road after dark in the absence of streetlights, but the rain was getting worse, and this part of Allegheny County was notorious for flash flooding. There was already water ponding in the driveway of the cemetery they were passing.

The frightened expression had returned to Phil’s face. “You sure this’ll work?”

“It will.” Carl hadn’t told anyone about the athame, and really didn’t want to broach the topic. “Though we might have to wait for the rain to stop before it _does_ work…”

“If someone already screwed it up once—”

“This time we know for sure. Cleome and Shearsy checked, remember? That won’t happen.” Now that he thought of it, Carl had wanted to ask Shearsy why Cleome called him Caedmon, but had forgotten until that moment.

“Still, though…they said this might not work as well. But I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Shearsy says he knows what he’s doing, but there’s always the chance it might decide it likes him better. I don’t want my problem becoming someone else’s, eh? But, just in case it doesn’t work—”

Carl was starting to get scared as well. “Phil, don’t.”

“I’m glad I got traded here, and that all of you have become my second family—”

“Phil, _STOP!”_ The sudden surge of anxiety was making it difficult for Carl to stay in his lane. “Don’t talk like that, _please.”_

“And that we won the Cup…but most of all, I’m happy I met you. That alone made the trade worth it.” Phil squeezed his hands together in his lap as he heaved a long, ragged sigh. 

Phil’s voice was barely audible as it cracked under the weight of his emotions. “I don’t want to die. I want to stay with you forever, no matter what…because I love you.”

Carl felt a sudden warmth surge through him, tangibly and metaphysically, upon realizing that Cleome had seen the truth in her mirror. Hearing it from Phil was a salve for his wounded soul.

“Phil.” Carl took a deep breath before finding his voice. “I won’t let you die. If this doesn’t work, I’ll save you myself; even if I have to run all over the world or fight something to do it. I swear.” 

“Carl…” Phil’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Thank you…”

The tender moment was interrupted by the deer that darted out of its hiding place and into the middle of the road. The brakes weren’t responding no matter how hard Carl slammed on them thanks to the wet road, so he swerved at the last minute to avoid it. However, the sudden swerve caused him to hydroplane across the other lane and break through the guardrail on the hill.

The last thing Carl saw was the airbag deploying before everything went black.

***

Fierce pain throbbed throughout Carl’s face and chest as he suddenly became keenly aware of the taste of blood and his sudden inability to breathe.

Upon pulling back in abject fear, it turned out that Carl’s face had been pressed into the semi-inflated airbag, which had a long streak of blood down the center. Even after moving away from the point of impact, the metallic taste remained in Carl’s mouth. 

The windshield had been obliterated; its remnants scattered throughout the front of the car and what remained of the dashboard, which, like the front of the car, was crunched like an accordion against a very large tree. 

Carl caught a sudden glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, which was hanging precariously by three wires from the ceiling. No wonder he tasted blood: it had gushed out of his now-swollen nose at some point and dried all over his mouth and chin. His head must have jerked to one side after the airbag hit him, since his left eye was also swollen and beginning to blacken. 

“Phil?” When turning his head to the passenger’s seat proved to be too painful, he decided to try turning his body instead. However, the seatbelt had tightened considerably during the crash, and kept him confined in his current position. Perhaps this was why his chest hurt so much. He reached down to undo the buckle, which clicked in response, but didn’t unfasten. It must have jammed during the impact. 

Carl reached into his left pocket and pulled out the bag containing the athame. He pulled open the bag and grabbed the athame’s handle before proceeding to use the blade to cut himself out of the seatbelt. At least Cleome’s gift had proven useful.

“Phil?” Carl tried again before pushing and twisting his body around to face the passenger’s seat. The seat was empty, and the passenger’s side window was covered with several bloody streaks. The door on the passenger’s side had been opened; its handle accented with a bloody handprint. 

The rain had long subsided and given way to the radiance of the full moon, which illuminated the trail of blood stretching down the hill and towards a path of gravestones. 

Carl scrambled to push himself to his right and open the driver’s side door. He checked his pocket for his phone before remembering the athame, which he returned to its bag before placing it into his pocket alongside his phone. 

Calling for help could wait. Finding Phil was the first priority.

When the driver’s side door failed to open after three tries, Carl crawled across the passenger’s seat and slid out of the open door on the other side before suddenly realizing that he should have been far more mindful of the broken glass when he placed his hands on the seat. But at least his arms and legs still worked. However, the searing pain continued to reverberate through his chest.

_“Phil!”_ Carl trudged forward across the muddy ground, clenching the bottom of his shirt in his hands in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was slow going, but he now had a good view of the gravestones at the bottom of the hill, where the trail of blood appeared to lead.

Carl screamed as his next step sent him crashing backwards to the ground and then sliding down the hill before landing in a heap right in front of the first row of gravestones. If the ground was this saturated, there was also a high risk of landslides. He had to find Phil and get out. He placed his hands flat on the ground to push himself up before realizing that he had placed his right hand on something hard. Upon closer inspection, the object turned out to be Phil’s phone, which was stuck in emergency mode and nonresponsive. 

Carl placed Phil’s phone in his other pants pocket before forcing himself to ignore the pain in his chest as he pushed himself up off of the ground. He headed deeper into the cemetery, scanning the rows of gravestones for any sign of Phil as a mausoleum came into view the further he walked. 

It suddenly occurred to Carl that he should try looking on the other side of the cemetery. He crossed over to the opposite side, continuing to keep his eyes open as the mausoleum loomed larger and larger the closer he got to it.

His intuition had been right. Sure enough, there was Phil, soaking wet and collapsed near its front doors.

_“Phil!”_ When running proved to be too painful, Carl took it down a notch, still scrambling as quickly as he could over to Phil’s side, attempting to kneel but instead falling to his knees once he was right next to him.

Blood oozed from a wound above Phil’s right temple as he turned his head towards Carl, heaving uneven breaths through his mouth before coughing up blood.

Except it wasn’t Phil. The raspy baritone had returned. “You again. Fitting place to die, don’t you think?” 

“What have you done with Phil?” Carl’s voice wavered too much for him to sound very threatening.

“He’s alive…barely. But…this is the end for me. He’s lost too much blood for me to hold out much longer.”

“Here.” Carl held his right hand up to Phil’s face, then closed his eyes and looked away when he felt Phil seize his wrist and press his hand against his mouth. Although he had tried to block out the experience last time, this one seemed much shorter; as before he knew it, Phil had pushed his hand away.

“That’ll only last me a little while. You should have made that deal with me. Now you’ll lose us both.”

_“No.”_ Carl felt himself burning with resolve. “I won’t.”

“What are you saying? I told you in no uncertain terms. If I die, he dies.”

Carl looked Phil right in the eyes. “Take me instead.” 

“Are you mad?!” Phil began to draw back in disbelief, but stopped when he winced in pain. “You already know that I’ll end up killing you if that happens.”

This time, Carl’s voice did not waver. “I told you. I’ll do anything for him.”

There were a few moments of silence as the vetala pondered the latest turn of events. “…Very well. Give me your hand.”

Carl extended his right hand to Phil, who clasped it with his own right hand before squeezing tightly, prompting Carl to do the same. 

“Now, whatever you feel, don’t let go.” 

Carl whimpered as his hand burned in excruciating agony, as if it were on fire. The pain gradually crept up his arm before pounding against his already aching chest. He doubled over, making it worse, but dutifully kept his grip on Phil’s hand. 

Then the pain receded, and he suddenly felt a heightened sense of consciousness before licking the blood on his lips and smiling, chuckling in a gritty baritone. Upon immediately regaining his true self, he recoiled in disgust at what he had just felt and done.

If he was already bloodthirsty, he didn’t have much time. 

Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out the black bag, tearing it open and seizing the athame’s handle before plunging it into his right thigh, forcing himself to disregard the anguish and the gushing blood as he shoved it in further, pressing harder until the hilt was against his skin and the denim of his jeans. 

A dazzling white beam radiated from Carl, scorching his skin as it skyrocketed towards the heavens. Unable to hold out any longer, Carl screamed in misery as a gale-force wind blew across the cemetery.

After a few minutes, the light vanished, and the wind subsided. Carl took this as a sign that it was safe to remove the blood-stained athame from his thigh, and proceeded to do just that before setting it aside on the ground. 

“Phil!” Carl grabbed Phil’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Phil, wake up!” There was no response. _“Phil, please! Wake up!”_

Phil’s groan was definitely his. Carl’s plan had been successful.

“Phil?”

“…Carl?” Phil asked weakly. “What happened?”

“It’s over. I killed it. You’re safe now.”

“Where are you?” Phil attempted to reach for Carl with both arms, but abandoned the effort when his left arm, which now hung at an odd angle, refused to respond.

“I’m right here.” Carl leaned over Phil and placed his hands on Phil’s chest.

“I can’t see you…” This time, Phil reached for Carl with his right arm only and found Carl’s face.

“See?” Carl placed both of his hands over the one on his face. “Here I am. I’m gonna call for help, all right?”

“Still can’t…see you…” Phil took shallow breaths before his head turned to one side and his hand slid from Carl’s face and landed on the ground.

“Phil?!” Carl began shaking Phil’s shoulders again, desperately watching for a reaction. “Phil, talk to me! Say something! _Please!”_

Carl picked up and squeezed Phil’s right hand before gently letting go, but there was no response. Instead, the hand thudded to the ground. Carl picked up the hand once more and thumbed around the wrist, feeling for a pulse.

There was none. 

“No…” The tears were welling up as Carl heard sirens in the distance. “This can’t be happening!” He lunged forward and pulled Phil’s body into his arms before throwing his head back and screaming at the top of his lungs.

The talisman around Phil’s neck was now glowing with a purple light as Carl leaned into Phil’s chest, sobbing hysterically, even as he heard approaching voices.

“You can’t leave me…Not like this…” Carl choked back a sob. “I never got to tell you that I love you…”

The talisman’s light strengthened, and it shone brightly before the obsidian shattered.

By this point, four EMTs had reached the pair. Two behind Carl pulled him away for some medical attention as a third examined Phil’s eyes with a flashlight, while the other prepared two stretchers. 

_“PLEASE!”_ Carl pleaded frantically. _“You can’t let him die!"_

“Sir, we’ll do everything we can,” one of the EMTs reassured him. “But we also need to—“

The EMT working on Phil was now feeling on his neck for a pulse and found something that piqued his interest. “Get him into the ambulance first. He needs defib stat.” 

Carl opened his mouth to speak, but the remaining EMT anticipated what he was about to say. “He’ll be fine. We’ll take care of you both. Can you tell me what happened to you two?”

Carl recounted as much as he knew about the accident and its aftermath, leaving out all of the parts about demonic possession while two of the EMTs positioned Phil on one of the stretchers. He didn’t need to end up in Western Psych. Fortunately, the EMT didn’t notice the athame, which would have raised additional questions, even though he did wrap a bandage around the wound on Carl’s thigh.

The moon began to fade as clouds rolled in, and a light rain began falling as Phil was carried off and the two remaining EMTs placed the second stretcher on the ground next to Carl.

“Cross your arms over your chest,” the first EMT instructed.

It hurt, but Carl did as he was told. At that point, the first EMT moved behind Carl before squatting down placing his hands underneath Carl’s arms and looping them around his body before grabbing his wrists. The second EMT squatted down to Carl’s left and crossed her arms under his thighs before holding onto his legs.

The sudden invasion of personal space added more anxiety. “Um, you could have just asked me to—”

The EMT behind Carl ignored him. “Okay, on three, we lift. Ready?” The female EMT nodded. “One, two, three…”

Even though it only took a few seconds, the hold and lift onto the stretcher took more time than Carl would have liked. 

“Lie back, please.” The male EMT slid his hands from Carl’s sides to the back of Carl’s shoulders. “I got you.”

Thankfully, he really did have him, as lying down was proving to be difficult. Carl leaned back as far as he could and let his muscles relax, allowing himself to sink into the grasp behind him that slowly lowered him the remainder of the way down. The female EMT slid her hands onto the backs of Carl’s thighs and down to his calves, straightening his legs in the process. 

“Uncross your arms and place them at your sides,” was the male EMT’s next command. When Carl complied, they made short work of strapping him into place before lifting the sidebars and crouching down at either end and grasping the transport bars.

“Okay, on three. One, two, three…”

Judging by how slowly the two EMTs were trudging as they carried him towards the waiting ambulance, the ground must have been in worse shape than Carl thought. He dreaded to think what could have happened had they not come when they did. 

They finally reached the ambulance, and not a moment too soon. Carl hadn’t wanted to be away from Phil for any longer. Since moving his neck still hurt, Carl peered to his left the best he could with peripheral vision as the male EMT and one of the other ones from before strapped down the stretcher. The female EMT jumped outside to speak with her other coworker before they closed the doors. They must have been getting ready to leave.

If Carl thought _he’d_ been violated; well, Phil had it worse. Phil was now naked from the waist up, and most likely naked underneath the blanket covering the lower half of his body. At least he was unconscious for the whole ordeal. 

But he was awake. And _alive._

“Phil—” Carl began, but was hushed by pressure to the wound on his thigh. A downward glance soon revealed that the male EMT was changing the bandage.

Phil groaned faintly as he turned his head towards Carl, gazing at him intently.

Turning his head still wasn’t an option, so Carl’s peripheral vision would have to do. “Now can you see me?”

Phil nodded slightly. “You’re all right.” It was a basic acknowledgement, but the inflection of every word carried significant emotional weight.

“More or less. Sorry I can’t really move to look at you right now…”

Phil’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I can see you. That’s enough.” 

That was all it took for the dam to burst and the tears to come back, which prompted the male EMT to press a wad of compressed gauze against Carl’s nose. “Sir, try to take a deep breath and calm down. Your nose is broken, and this might make it worse.”

Carl’s injuries no longer mattered. Even with the throbbing pain in his chest subsequent to every shuddering sob and the fluid pooling underneath his nose, he could only continue thinking about Phil and worrying about his condition.

And he continued to do so throughout the remainder of the ride to the hospital.

***

Carl winced the second that the fluorescent light hit his eyes, sending a torrent of pain through his face. He instinctively jerked his hand towards his face to rest on his nose before remembering that was a bad idea. He’d only had surgery to repair the broken nose a few hours ago, and didn’t want to screw it up any further.

The least they could do was give him something stronger than acetaminophen and ice packs, but the doctors weren’t letting him anywhere near the stronger painkillers. At least, not while he still had a concussion.

Once the swelling went down, the pain probably wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad, and would likely respond to the acetaminophen. The three broken ribs, however, were another story. If those still gave Carl trouble once the concussion subsided, it was on to the good stuff. Who knew that airbags could do so much damage?

Carl put his hand back down and turned his head left, towards the drone of voices in the other half of the room. Shearsy had lamented his perceived inferiority at healing magic when he visited Phil and Carl earlier, but Carl had his range of motion back now. That, and if Shearsy kept coming by, there would likely be less healing time for them both.

“You back with us now?” Sure enough, Amanda was back in the chair on the other side of the room, which had been pulled up to Phil’s bedside. She had been a regular presence since they’d been admitted to the hospital the previous day. Even though she spent most of the hospital’s visiting hours there, she did leave every now and then to go back to Phil’s place and check on Stella. Their parents were also on the next flight to Pittsburgh, so at least Amanda wouldn’t be alone there. 

“For now.” Three naps hadn’t shaken off the grogginess from the anesthesia, even though Carl’s surgery had been almost six hours ago. 

At least his ordeal was over. Phil still needed surgery on his broken left arm. For that, he’d most definitely be receiving the stronger painkillers, but would likely remain in the hospital a little longer due to the concussion he’d also sustained, which made the painkillers much more dangerous. Like Carl, he’d already received stitches for the wounds he’d suffered, albeit on his temple and right hand, rather than both hands like Carl had.

Carl hadn’t realized just how badly he’d hurt himself with the athame until counting twelve stitches on his right thigh. He made up a convoluted story about falling on someone’s skate when the doctor asked him about it. The doctor didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but hopefully there would be no further questions.

Amanda pushed herself out of her chair. “You need ice?” 

“Please.” Carl placed his hands at his sides to push himself up before the pain shooting through his chest reminded him that he was currently incapable of the jackknife motion. Instead, he rolled to his left side and pushed himself up that way, as Phil had taught him earlier.

“I keep telling you, use the sidebar,” Phil instructed.

“You seem awfully used to this,” Carl observed offhandedly.

Phil frowned, sighing sadly. “I’m way too used to hospitals.”

Carl nodded ruefully. “Sorry.”

Amanda returned from the room’s supply cupboard with a squeezable ice pack and handed it to Carl. “Here.” 

“Thanks.” Carl held the pack up to Amanda. “Uh…?”

“Sorry. I forgot about the stitches.” Amanda retrieved the pack and squeezed it a few times before returning it to Carl. When she handed it over, there was a knock at the door. “Sounds like we have more company.”

That wasn’t a surprise. There had been a pretty steady procession of teammates coming to visit since yesterday. Carl glanced at the fruit basket below the cabinets with bemusement, remembering how Vero had wanted to send flowers, but was overruled by her husband, who wanted to avoid the obvious joke. 

Amanda opened the door to reveal Shearsy and Cleome, and was just about to close it when Sid, Sully, and Kuni showed up. 

“Geez, full house,” Amanda remarked as the visitors mulled into the room, barely leaving any open space. “You all come together?”

“Just us three,” Kuni replied. “We just bumped into Shearsy, and um…” Kuni glanced over at Cleome. “Cleo, was it?”

Shearsy glared daggers at Kuni as he replied through gritted teeth. “That’s _Lady_ Cleome.”

“Okay. Geez.” Kuni held both hands in front of his chest. “Don’t check me, bro.” 

Amanda stepped out into the hallway before turning in Phil’s direction. “I’m gonna go take Stella for a walk. You guys have fun.”

“Later,” Phil called after her as she closed the door.

“Speaking of family…” Sid began. “Haggy, weren’t your parents and brother supposed to be coming?”

Carl tried to shift to look at his visitors, but moved too quickly and immediately regretted it. “Last I heard, they were delayed at Heathrow. So I don’t think they’ll be here until tomorrow.”

“Figures,” Sid muttered with a half-shrug. 

Shearsy pulled two small satchels out of his pocket. “Lady Cleome taught me how to make these. If you put them under your pillows, they’ll help with the concussion symptoms.” He placed the satchels next to the fruit basket.

Sid turned towards Shearsy in interest. “Got any more of those?”

Shearsy nodded, noticing the baffled look on Cleome’s face before explaining to her. “See, _that’s_ why I made four extras.”

Cleome stood rooted to the ground, blinking confoundedly. “…Right.”

“Anyway…” Shearsy headed over to Carl’s bedside and leaned against the wall, watching him intendedly. “I never got the chance to ask you the last time you visited, but tell me. How did you really get that wound in your leg?”

Carl took a deep breath and stared nervously at the linen on his bed, pressing the ice pack against his face as everyone else focused on him. Of course they didn’t believe the story he’d made up. At least for the doctor, the story was somewhat plausible, as he hadn’t been around to see what had or hadn’t happened on the ice. But there was no bullshitting the others.

“Well…” Carl was about to begin by mentioning the athame, but suddenly remembered it most likely hadn’t been retrieved from where he had last left it. “C—uh, Lady Cleome, I think your athame might still be in that graveyard. Otherwise, it’s gone for good. Sorry.”

“Wait.” Shearsy’s brow furrowed as he turned towards Cleome, confused. “Lady Cleome…?”

Cleome nodded. “I gave him my black-handled athame.” 

_“What?!”_ Shearsy recoiled in shock. “But why?”

“Let him explain,” Cleome told him gently.

“Remember when she pulled me aside? She was afraid that thing might come after me. I ended up needing it.”

Cleome nodded. “I was afraid of that, which is precisely why I gave it to you. But what made you need to use it on yourself?”

“Well, you probably heard, but after the accident…” Carl quickly looked over at Phil before swallowing slowly. “Phil lost a lot of blood.” 

Phil nodded. “I probably should have stayed put, but Carl had been knocked out, so I was afraid something serious happened and went off to get help. I tried calling 911 when I got lost, but the signal dropped because of the weather. Then I couldn’t remember anything until…” Phil’s voice trailed off.

“Hmm.” That explained why Phil’s phone had been stuck in emergency mode. “I came to and I went to go find him because I was afraid something had happened. I eventually found him, but that…thing had him, and he...” Carl moved the ice pack away from his face and squeezed it anxiously until the stitches began to ache. “He was pretty much bled out at that point, and it told me that it needed a new host or both it and Phil would die. So I…” Carl took a long, ragged breath. “I told it that it could have me.” 

Phil’s sudden lurch to face Carl made the bed creak, breaking the silence in the hushed room as he and Carl made eye contact.

“But…” Kuni crossed his arms and then placed his right hand on his cheek, leaning in contemplation. “Shearsy told me what was going on. Don’t vetala end up killing whoever they possess anyway?”

Cleome nodded. “Eventually, unless they’re successfully exorcised or transfer to a new host.”

“So…did you have a plan to get rid of it, or were you really…?” Kuni’s eyes widened at the implications of what he was clearly thinking despite not saying it out loud.

“I had a plan. It wasn’t a _good_ plan, and it almost didn’t work, but I knew I had the athame. But once that thing got ahold of me, I knew I didn’t have much time, so I just stabbed the hell out of myself and hoped that it would work.”

Sid winced at the mental image. “No wonder you needed stitches. You gonna be able to skate on that leg?”

Sully rolled his eyes. “Sid, that’s not really important right now.” 

Sid pursed his lips, chastened. “Okay, so my next question…” He glanced at Phil. “Didn’t they use the defibrillator on you?”

“Well, it’s not like I was really around for it, but…” Phil, like the others, was now watching Carl expectantly, clearly seeking further clarification. Carl shuddered at the memory, which he had tried unsuccessfully to banish from his mind.

“That’s the thing. You…you shouldn’t be here.” Carl hung his head as he squeezed the ice pack once more, ignoring the pain this time. “I saw it…You were gone. But then there was that light…”

“Light?” Cleome stepped forward, her voice indicating rising interest.

Carl nodded. “From that talisman that Shearsy gave him, the one around his neck. There was a purple light, and then the stone shattered. I guess it must have done something?” Carl stared at Cleome quizzically, wondering exactly what she knew.

“Caedmon.” Cleome turned to Shearsy. “You told me that you gave that to him. What did you do before you did?”

Shearsy’s eyes widened in surprise. “You knew what that talisman was all along?”

“Yes.” Cleome nodded. “A phoenix shard. I’ve heard all about them over the years, but that was the first time I had ever seen one in person.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to see how you would handle it. Tell me, what did you do before you gave it to Phil?”

Shearsy shook his head. “I took it outside to charge it with moonlight, then took it back to my altar and cast a circle before rubbing salt on it and using a consecration spell. But here’s the thing. Nobody ever taught me the spell. It just came to me.”

“I see.” Cleome’s nod was a sure sign she knew much more than she was letting on. “You told me about receiving the phoenix shard before leaving Winchester. Do you remember what Lord Murtagh told you when he gave it to you?”

“That I was the most capable person in the coven of harnessing its powers.”

“And?” Cleome eyed Shearsy expectantly.

“That if I was as good as he thought, that I’d know what to do.”

“Yes, and that consecration spell, the one nobody taught you…what was it?”

Shearsy closed his eyes and titled his head back, mulling over the words. “Stygian shining in the night, with your light enchanted…” Shearsy’s eyes snapped open when he suddenly remembered how the rest of it went. “By the powers of sacred light, may rebirth be granted. And when the stygian sheds its light at the final hour, let fulfillment of return gather secret power. Blaze of Garuda, brightly burn, spirit of the fire. Let the site of epoch turn, and grant me my desire. Three times three, so mote it be.”

Cleome stared intendedly at Shearsy for a few moments before speaking again. “Caedmon?”

Shearsy shrunk back slightly, now obviously quite nervous. “Y…yes?”

A wide smile spread across Cleome’s face. “You’re more than ready for your Second Initiation.” 

Shearsy would have fallen over had he not suddenly regained his footing. “Lady Cleome?!” 

“We’ll need to wait until the next full moon, but that’s more than enough time to prepare. I need to bring the rest of the coven together and make a few more preparations, and there’ll be some tasks you need to complete as well. There’s much more to discuss, but now’s not the right time. Besides, now that this has come up, I need to call a coven meeting for tonight.”

Shearsy nodded before looking up at Carl. “Would either of you mind if I came back later?”

“Uh…” Carl had no idea what was going on, but could at least discern that something really, really important had just happened. “Not at all. You do what you have to do. Besides, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, Second Initiation is a huge fucking deal.” 

Cleome chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t put it _that_ way, but yes, you’re right. I didn’t realize you were familiar with the Craft.”

“Vaguely,” Phil stated with a slight shrug of his good shoulder. “Through some old teammates.” 

“Interesting. Well, we must excuse ourselves. I’m sure I’ll be seeing the two of you again.” Cleome headed to the door and pulled it open.

“Later, guys,” Shearsy said as he followed Cleome. “Let me know if those satchels work, okay? That was my first time making those.” With that, he and Cleome were gone.

There were a few moments of silence as the remaining visitors exchanged brief stares. Finally, Kuni broke the ice. “Uh…what just happened?”

“Hell if I know,” Sid replied. 

Phil grabbed the sidebar on the right side of his bed and used it as leverage to turn himself to face Carl. “So…you actually let that thing _have_ you?”

Carl nodded solemnly. “Once I knew the stakes, it was an easy decision.”

“You…” Phil’s wide-eyed expression betrayed the emotional torrent gushing though his head as he weighed Carl’s statement and retelling of the events leading up to their current situation. “You had to know the risks.”

Carl looked directly at Phil, filtering out everyone else’s presence. “I did.”

Sully cleared his throat. “Sid, Kuni, I need to go over a few plays with you two before our game on Friday.”

Kuni nodded and headed towards the door. “Bye. See you guys later.” He opened the door and let it close behind him when he was out in the hallway.

“Wait, _now?”_ Sid gawked in confusion. “I mean, we have morning skate tomorrow, and we went over film this morning—“

“Now’s a perfect time.” Sully grabbed Sid’s left wrist and started pulling him along as he began walking towards the door. “Besides, we have to adjust our strategy depending on who the Lightning have in net.”

“But we just—OW! Quit pulling my arm!”

“Come on, Sid.” Sully made his way over to the doorway with a reluctant Sid in tow. 

“Shouldn’t we at least—”

“Yes. Haggy and Phil, we’ll be back.” Sully jerked on Sid’s arm and yanked him through the door. “We’re walking…we’re walking…” The door slammed behind them.

“OW! OW OW OW OW!” Sid was quite audible through the now-closed door. “All right, all right! I’m going! Stop it already!” 

Carl and Phil both couldn’t help but chuckle. Sid really did care, even if he was obtuse as always. But Sully had been onto something: since they were admitted to the hospital, they really hadn’t had much time alone when both of them were awake. 

Phil grabbed onto the right sidebar again and used it to turn and push his legs over the open right side of the bed.

“Should you really be doing that?” Carl inquired.

“Nobody said I couldn’t. Besides, it’s only the upper half of me that’s broken.” Phil put his hand on the bed and pushed himself into a standing position, then unsteadily ambled over to Carl’s bed and sat down on the mattress next to him. “You were willing to risk that thing taking you over completely?”

Carl nodded. “Remember that night I was at your place and I got attacked? It asked me if I would do anything for you, and the answer was yes. It still is.” 

Phil’s face was a hybrid of fear and astonishment. “But you could have died.”

“I know. But I promised you I wouldn’t let you die. Even if that meant I might.” Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Carl once again knew what he was about to say. “Because I love you. More than family, more than hockey, more than _anything._ And I’ll keep on fighting for you forever, because that’s how long I’ll keep on loving you.”

Blazing emotion seared every inch of Phil’s face as he sat gobsmacked for several long moments before finally managing one final question. “You love me enough to give up your own life?”

“I’d do it again in a second,” Carl affirmed with a nod.

Phil took a deep breath before snaking his good arm around Carl’s waist, moving carefully to avoid hitting anything above his stomach as he pulled Carl closer to him.

“I can’t exactly hug you right now,” Carl reminded Phil. “And your other arm—”

“I know,” Phil breathed as he nuzzled up against Carl’s hair. “I just need to touch you.”

Carl draped his left arm across Phil’s back, resting his left hand in the middle of Phil’s back. “They’re fixing your arm tonight?”

“Last I heard, they were coming by in three hours to take me into anesthesia. At least this time I know I’ll wake up, eh?”

“Phil…” There was a coherent thought beginning to form somewhere in the recesses of Carl’s mind, but it vanished when Phil spoke again.

“And then I’ll be way too hopped up on painkillers to know you’re here. So…just let me stay like this a little while longer.” Phil tightened his grip on Carl’s waist as he leaned down to kiss Carl’s left cheek.

Carl didn’t have magical powers like Shearsy or Cleome, but he had his own protection spell of sorts. He turned his head and kissed Phil once on his forehead, once on his right cheek, and then on his lips: three times three.

It was just as well that their visitors had left. The anesthesia still had a stranglehold on Carl, and at this rate, he wouldn’t be awake to see Phil off for surgery. He already felt himself sinking into Phil’s side as his arm slipped off of Phil’s back and onto the bed. 

Phil adjusted himself so his arm wouldn’t fall asleep. “Still tired?” 

“Mm-hmm.” By now, Carl could barely keep his eyes open.

“Go on, relax. I got you. I promise, eh?” 

Carl allowed himself to fully lean over and rested his head on Phil’s chest. His eyes fluttered shut as Phil pulled him in closer. 

Phil could protect him this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to MorningSunshine for beta reading another fic of mine. You're a sweetheart. :)
> 
> Since I know the question will come up: I actually don't watch Supernatural, though I am familiar with the show. The magic worldbuilding comes from my own experiences with Wicca in the past and various Wiccans/Pagans, as well as research I did to fill in the blanks I couldn't remember. I made it a point to deliberately avoid making the magic world look too much like Supernatural.


End file.
